“How tweet it is…”(quote from Jackie Gleason, sort of)

I just read the results of the Teen Choice Awards that aired last night (Sunday, August 7^th ). Apparently teens vote for their favorite singers, movies, actors, songs etc. I hope the winners don’t reflect actual teenage intellect. A couple of movies that won were “Bad Teacher’ and Hangover II”, both rated R and very nasty. Favorite TV show and several TV actor awards went to “Jersey Shore”; a reality show where those in it aren’t really even acting.

I don’t know much about Twitter but with all this technology it seems someone should have caught and corrected this category. Justin Beiber won for the Favorite Twit category. Maybe that was supposed to be “Tweet”. According to dictionary.com (one of my favorite places on the web; no, really!) a twit is defined as: an insignificant or bothersome person. I’ve used the word slanderously at times.

I think that’s the only teen choice they got right.

We just got home from our third trip to Utah this year. You know this is a 12 hour trip so there’s a lot of time to ponder significant subjects. Unfortunately, nothing comes to mind.

Why do I always, and I mean always, have to honk the horn when going through a tunnel? I don’t remember Dad doing this. It’s not in the driver’s manual. I never hear the bleat of another horn in the tunnel. There’s no sign saying “When traveling deeply inside the depths of this tunnel make sure to honk your horn.” I haven’t figured that out yet.

We drive through several small towns on the trip; Denio, Beatty, Bly, Dairy, Adel. I don’t recall seeing a single person in any of these towns. None rocking on the front porch, no kids playing, no one backing out of a driveway. Absolutely no one. Maybe the rundown houses and stores are just movie props or the residents were sucked up by alien spacecraft. Or, there’s always the government conspiracy theory. Actually, they’re all probably tuned in watching Jersey Shore and listening to the music of that Twit Justin Beiber.

When Jan and I make these treks we pack supplies. We were taking Brittany and Maeli back to Utah so we brought significant provisions to get us through. We had carrots (two bags), grapes, a roll of Ritz Crackers, Mentos (both the fruity and mint kind), fruit snacks, boxed apple/pair juice, animal crackers (I still bite the heads off first), almonds, honey roasted peanuts, dried apricots (Jan’s), dried mangos, and several bottles of water-some frozen.

The grand marshal of the supply wagon is a 5 pound bag of peanut M&M’s. You can tell we’re prepared if we get stuck in snow drifts during August.

On the way home Jan was driving. I had an M&M crave so I reached for the bag on the back seat. The M&M’s came in a zip lock bag and Jan, having foreknowledge of her husband, also placed the bag of candy into another zip locked bag. Double bagged, double zip locked. I swear I grabbed the top of the bag but, like a piñata taking its last crushing blow, the bag exploded, sending blue, green, yellow, orange,red and brown egg shaped “melt in your mouth not in your hand” candy all over the interior of the car. Jan, startled by the detonation yelled “What are you doing?!!”

That was an appropriate question.

“I just wanted some M&M’s.” I explained sheepishly, “and something to do…” as I began to pick up a few of the spilled candies.

Jan gave further instructions, “You’d better pick ALL those up, and the ones you find are the ones you eat.”

I started shoving as many into my mouth as I could.

She added, “Why didn’t you pick them up by the top of the bag?"

“I thought I did... however, my last thought was, I hope I have these by the top of the bag because dumping them out would be….AHHHH!!”

I was able to save most of them due to quick reflexes.

I tried to put a positive spin on the accident: “sort of like confetti, wasn’t it? An exploding rainbow of color right here, right in the car. Magnificent, wasn’t it?”

She wasn’t buying it.

When we arrived home Jan brought in a bag that carried the spilled candy she’d picked up.

Holding the bag up she pointed at the candied shrapnel, “I picked up 120 of these. That’s not counting the ones you picked off the floor and stuffed in your mouth.”

I’m a little tired of eating 120 M&Ms; especially the ones with hair, carpet fuzz and dirt from who knows where. Hey, it’s not like you can wash them.